


started with a spark

by ericdire (aarobron)



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29591361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aarobron/pseuds/ericdire
Summary: It's dark, except for one spotlight that beams right over Virgil. His fingers are biting tight into the leather of the seat and his teeth are digging harsh into his bottom lip, eyebrows knitted together in a frown. Jordan watches his reflection in the mirror and goes unspotted.
Relationships: Virgil van Dijk/Jordan Henderson
Kudos: 15





	started with a spark

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably the worst thing i've ever written but i wrote it to cheer myself up. inspired by [this photo](https://georginiwijnaldum.tumblr.com/post/643656032141393920).
> 
> enjoy x

Jordan blinks down at his phone, eyes burning. The screen tells him that it's twelve minutes past midnight, and Virgil still isn't in bed. He promised he'd be up a few minutes after Jordan, but his pillow is still cold.

He sighs, then swings his legs over the edge of the mattress and makes his way downstairs.

Virgil isn't sitting in the kitchen. He's not on the couch watching television, either. Jordan rubs his eyes, and slouches through to the gym. 

It's dark, except for one spotlight that beams right over Virgil. His fingers are biting tight into the leather of the seat and his teeth are digging harsh into his bottom lip, eyebrows knitted together in a frown. Jordan watches his reflection in the mirror and goes unspotted. 

"You're going to hurt yourself," he says softly. Virgil's head snaps up and his features soften into a smile. His eyes are still dark though, so Jordan knows he's not okay.

"I'm fine," he says, voice low. Jordan knows it's a lie.

"And the club are fine with your extra work, are they?" he asks. Virgil looks away, so they clearly don't know. He tuts, and takes a step closer. "Please come to bed. You need a break - your knee needs a break."

"I'm fine," Virgil repeats, gritting his teeth as he lifts his leg. His knee shakes under the tension from the weights, and Jordan frowns, stopping behind him and sliding his arms around the younger man's neck. Virgil finally lowers his leg, but his head drops so far that his chin is almost touching Jordan's forearm.

"Tell me what happened?" Jordan asks softly, nudging his nose against Virgil's jaw. "You were fine at lunch and then as soon as we got home, you were all grumpy and wouldn't talk to me."

"Nothing. Nothing happened," Virgil sighs. He presses a kiss to the hard point on Jordan's wrist. "I just… feel like I'm not making any progress. I feel like I'm not getting better."

"And you think working your ligaments to death is going to help that?" Jordan asks, raising an eyebrow. He sees Virgil roll his eyes, conceding defeat. "Please give it a rest, V. Save your strength for your actual rehab programme."

"Just five more minutes," Virgil says, trying to be placating.

He should know that that shit doesn't work on Jordan.

"Come on," Jordan says softly. He unwraps his arms from around Virgil's neck and moves to stand in front of him instead, tilting his chin up with the tips of his fingers. "Enough, now. You need some sleep."

Virgil closes his eyes, defeated, and Jordan leans down to kiss him.

"You just need some attention," Jordan mumbles against his mouth. His fingertips trail down Virgil's throat and settle on his Adam's apple as he swallows. "Someone to take care of you. That's all."

"You take care of me," Virgil whispers, leaning forward to steal another kiss. "You always do."

"Yeah, baby," Jordan says, and drops to his knees. He grins when he hears Virgil's breath catch in his throat. "I'm going to make you feel better, I promise."

He slides his hand up Virgil's thighs, palms rubbing friction against the dusky hairs there. Jordan loves his thighs, the softness of his skin under his hands and the way they tense when he's turned on out of his mind -- the way they tremble when he comes, vulnerable like a baby bird.

Jordan carefully releases the straps that are tight around his leg and curves his palm around his knee, thumb brushing over the smooth scar tissue. He'd take the pain away if he could, all of it, and bear it himself. 

He wishes life was that easy.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, nose brushing against the inside of his knee. 

Virgil looks down at him and swallows. He knows not to lie.

"Yeah," Virgil whispers, so quiet that Jordan would've missed it if the room wasn't deadly silence. He swallows and Jordan dips his head, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to the very end of the scar that runs along the inside of his knee.

The air feels thick, tense. Jordan can taste it but he doesn't care - he slides his mouth along the mark, pressing kisses over every inch of skin. 

"I love you," Virgil whispers. His voice sounds choked off with emotion and his fingers are trembling when he pushes Jordan's hair off his forehead.

"I love you too," Jordan murmurs, nuzzling into the inside of Virgil's knee. He slides his hand up further, tips of his fingers slipping in the gap between Virgil's skin and his shorts. He's warm from his blood rushing south, and when Jordan looks up, he can see the hard outline of his dick pressing against the material.

His mouth waters. They haven't had much intimacy recently because they've just been so busy - between games and rehab and doctors appointments and trying to find some time to actually relax, the sex has been kind of on a back-burner. It's a shame, because Jordan has never quite been this attracted to his boyfriend over the years, but he intends to make sure things are going to change from now on.

"So gorgeous," Jordan mumbles, rising onto his knees. His fingers curl around the waistband of Virgil's shorts and his mouth ghosts over his dick, blowing hot and watching it twitch with satisfaction. "Somehow you've gotten better with age."

"Are you calling me old?" Virgil asks, mock offended.

"Never, baby," Jordan says, and then mouths at Virgil's dick through the material.

He presses his tongue against the head and feels it throb hotly, shorts tasting slightly salty where he's already leaking precome. Jordan's mind shuts down and he can't think of anything but making Virgil feel good.

"So good, you're so good with your mouth," Virgil gasps, babbling mindlessly already. Jordan smirks and pulls the waistband of Virgil's shorts down until it's riding high on his thighs, tucked snugly underneath his balls. His dick springs free, resting heavy against his stomach.

"Look at you," Jordan says, although he's really only talking about Virgil's dick. He's completely in awe when he wraps his fingers around it and pumps his fist a few times, like he's feeling it out, getting used to the weight of it again. He smooths his thumb over the head, through the wetness, and down the thick vein that runs down the underside. "Gorgeous boy. All mine."

“Yours,” Virgil agrees, but distantly. His hand comes up to tangle in Jordan’s hair and he gently guides him towards his dick, letting out a breathy little noise when his mouth closes over the head. The taste of him is so familiar on Jordan’s tongue and all his bones melt, feeling more at home than he has in months. 

Jordan bobs his head, taking as much of Virgil in as he can without choking, and then breathing through the rest. He loves the feeling – the weight of him on his tongue, the way it makes his jaw ache, his scratchy throat afterwards. He likes the secret little thrill of only him and Virgil knowing what’s happened.

Virgil’s free hand comes up to cup the back of his head and he presses his thumb against the hollow of Jordan’s cheek. 

“Such a good boy,” he murmurs, using the hand in Jordan’s hair to guide the rhythm. “Love you so much.”

He wants to say it back but instead, he just hums. The vibrations make Virgil groan and his fingers in Jordan’s hair tighten, sharp pain going straight to his dick. He puts both hands on Virgil’s thighs and holds on tight.

The rhythm is slow, but steady. He lets his teeth drag up the underside just to hear the desperate little noises that Virgil lets out, and wraps his fist around the base so he can lap over the head. He pulls away just far enough to press a messy kiss to the tip and then sinks back down, sucking hard and pushing down on Virgil’s thigh to keep him still as he gets close to the edge.

His hips freeze, fingers tightening in Jordan’s hair, and his dick pulses against his tongue as he tips over. Come floods his mouth and he swallows as much as he can, but Virgil uses his hand on Jordan’s head to pull him away. He’s still coming and ropes of it hit Jordan’s cheek, his mouth, and he darts his tongue out to taste it.

“Fuck,” Virgil hisses, swiping through the come with his thumb and pushing it into Jordan’s mouth. He drags his tongue over the pad of it, eyes fluttering closed with pleasure, and Virgil whimpers pathetically. “So fucking hot. Gonna be the death of me, Jord.”

Jordan pulls away to kiss his knuckles, and then carefully tucks his dick back into his shorts, smoothing a hand down his thigh when he’s done.

“Bed now,” he whispers, rising to a crouch and cupping Virgil’s cheek. “I need to get my beauty sleep.”

Virgil smiles, real and beautiful, for the first time in longer than Jordan cares to remember, and the tight feeling in his chest finally loosens.

Everything he does is to make Virgil smile.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ [georginiwijnaldum](https://georginiwijnaldum.tumblr.com/) xo


End file.
